


The Invitation Denegation

by LightofEvolution



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: D/Hr Advent 2018, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 05:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightofEvolution/pseuds/LightofEvolution
Summary: Draco is responsible for the organisation of the Ministry's Christmas party, and he desperately wants Hermione Granger to attend. But Hermione doesn't want to come. How far will Draco go to convince her? And will he be successful?





	The Invitation Denegation

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only playing in JKR's sandbox; I don't make money with this and there's no copyright infringement intended.  
> This story is part of 2018's D/Hr Advent. Thank you to those who have nominated me and the hosts for organising this event. Really, I'd like to hug the person who nominated me!
> 
> niffizzle, my beta, had the endless patience to deal with me and my panic that I wouldn't get this finished on time. And then, she was so unbelievably fast with her editing, even though it was Thanksgiving for her. Essentially, this wouldn't exist without her. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Also, there's a Christmas carol sung in the story. Yes, it's totally screwed up like this. That's intended, don't worry.

  
  


“And Hogwarts’ Care of Magical Creatures professor has provided us with the chance to decorate the room with ice-skating fairies. They will be paid, of course.” 

 

The man’s announcement and the accompanying wink in her direction made Hermione want to sigh dramatically and bang her head onto the table. But she controlled that impulse, seeing as it was probably frowned upon to behave so insolently in an interdepartmental Ministry meeting. It wouldn’t do her any good to react to the Deputy Head of Magical International Cooperation in such a manner -- especially from the Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement, aka herself. It wasn’t even the winking or the smirking that had provoked her drastic reaction. She found herself subjected to that quite regularly - as well as the banter and laughter that usually followed between her and him.

 

“Thank you for your accurate and much appreciated description of your elaborate plans for this years’ Christmas office party, Mister Malfoy.” Kingsley nodded formally and seemingly indifferently, though Hermione knew the Minister was among the first to dress in sparkly green and red and spike the punch.  

 

The smile on Draco’s face due to the praise was almost blinding. 

 

_ Alarming. _

 

To see Draco Malfoy so excited about… anything, really, was probably a once in a lifetime thing.

 

Since Draco’s part had been the last item on their agenda, the wizards and witches started to file out shortly after. Hermione was the last one to pass him in the doorway and stopped in front of him. On an impulse, she placed her hand on his forehead. 

 

“Mhmm,” she intoned. 

 

“What?” Draco asked, his eyebrows rising so high she could feel it beneath her palm. 

 

“No fever. A spell, maybe?” she pondered. 

 

“What makes you think that I’ve come down with something?” 

 

“You’re so cheerful.” 

 

He rolled his eyes, a habit she was positive he had copied from her in the long hours of shared meetings. “Come on, Hermione. I was discussing the Christmas party. How could I not be cheerful?” 

 

“I’m familiar with a lot of your habits, including sneering, barking, and smirking, particularly at pretty witches, but never…” she trailed off, making a gesture that included all of him. “That.” 

 

As if on cue, he smirked. “I like Christmas. That’s all.” 

 

She reorganised her files so she could carry them more comfortably and turned to go, still sceptical, but he wasn’t done talking. 

 

“You will love this office party, trust me.” 

 

She huffed into her files. “Trust me, I will not. Because I won’t go.” 

 

“Pardon me?” He stopped her with his outstretched arm. 

 

“I said I won’t go.” Easy question, easy answer. 

 

He was very close now, especially since he had leaned in. That happened a lot recently, being so close to him. Ever since her break-up with Terry Boot after some months of dating (which he had made a very public affair of) and Draco and Astoria’s ending of their engagement very quietly (except for the wails of Lucius about the impending end of the Malfoy line) which had both happened around the same time, a certain layer of  _ something _ had slowly crept into their banter. And if you squinted, one could call that something ‘flirting’.

 

“You are joking, right?” Draco asked, still blocking her way and so close that his robe sleeve brushed against hers. Of course, his was still in perfect condition, while hers bore a nice, fresh tea stain. 

 

Looking him directly into his eyes, Hermione almost felt sorry for the confused expression on Draco’s face. But some things couldn’t be changed.

 

“No,” she announced firmly. “I don’t see any sense in investing so much money and time into this particular festive matter. Although, I consider it a wonderful gesture to involve Hagrid in the decoration. Give him my warmest greetings.” 

 

He blinked. Only when she ducked under his arm and stepped into the corridor did he snap out of his pensive state. “You really are serious, aren’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. “Though, the murky waters of what you Gryffindors call ‘friendship’ between us must have soften your perception of my person. I am still very much a Malfoy, and Malfoys-”

 

“- And Malfoys have a history of getting what they want,” she ended the sentence along with him, eyes rolling. “Yes, you can repeat that line as often as you like, but even a Malfoy won’t get me to attend to a Christmas party.”   

 

“We will see,  _ Granger, _ we will see.” A thoughtful expression accompanied Draco’s decisive words.

 

Then, he removed his arm and she finally left the meeting room -- although not before pinching his side for annoying her. 

  
  


* * *

 

Two days later, Hermione got to her office at seven in the morning as usual.

 

At once, she spotted the envelope on her desk. A source of confusion, considering that , the post didn’t usually arrive until eight. So someone must have delivered the letter personally. A routinely cast detection charm revealed that there were no harmful curses or jinxes connected to the letter. ‘Constant Vigilance’ ingrained in her, she tried a few rarer diagnostic spells, just to be sure. Still, they came back negative.  

 

Now curious and convinced it was safe, Hermione grabbed the letter from her tidy desk and inspected it. It was obviously handwritten, with emerald ink and very tidy script addressed to her. The envelope bore several seals: those of the Malfoy family, the Ministry, and even the Hogwarts seal. 

 

Hermione chuckled, knowing that only Draco would be in possession of those seals. She suspected the Hogwarts seal was intended to amuse her because it was an outdated one, probably lying around the Manor from back when Lucius had been on the school’s Board of Governors. After all, it could always be useful to have one of those at hand. 

 

She broke the seals and unfurled the piece of parchment inside. Draco’s very neat script greeted her. 

 

_ ‘Dear Miss Hermione Bookworm Granger,  _

 

_ We have the pleasure to inform you that you are cordially invited to the annual Christmas Party of the Ministry of Magic on the 24th of December. We would be honoured, ecstatic, and ever so pleased to welcome you there.  _

_  
_ _ You’d undoubtedly be an absolute enrichment of this party and an unbearable pain in the arse to those who annoy you.  _

 

_ In festive expectations and your Christmas Curse,  _

 

_ Draco Lucius Malfoy _

_ Deputy Head of Magical International Cooperation and Party Responsible’  _

 

She sat at her desk for the entirety of three minutes and laughed until tears fell from her eyes. This wizard! He really believed he could charm, curse, or otherwise convince her into coming to the office party, didn’t he? The final chuckles were drowned with her coffee, and then she placed the envelope in the uppermost drawer of her desk. 

 

Why would she throw it away? It was something that could make her smile when she wanted to throw all her paperwork against the nearest wall in frustration during the days leading up to Christmas. And, really, it was…  _ adorable?  _ that Draco Malfoy had taken so much time to make her a personal invitation. 

 

Hermione shook her head, still finding it hard to believe that it was so important to him that she came.  Yet she remained still as firmly convinced that she wouldn’t.

 

* * *

 

On the seventeenth of December, Hermione came back from a lunch break she had spent  with Harry in the cafeteria. This time, there was a box on her desk from The Honeypot, a small, but very exclusive sweet shop in Diagon Alley. 

 

Today, there wasn’t an official looking letter waiting for her. Instead, a card in the shape of a Christmas tree was perched against the box, which read, 

 

_ ‘Aren’t they perfect? There will be more at the office Christmas Party, promise. D.’  _

 

Hermione opened the box and snorted. It was so Draco, sending her this. Candy canes, chocolates, gingerbread, and something she suspected to be homemade toffees were neatly arranged in the box, the rich and spicy smell reminding her fondly of Christmas at Hogwarts and the Burrow. 

 

Then, it hit her: he was trying to bribe and sugarcoat her! 

 

After a quick glance at the clock, she threw one of the chocolate pieces into her mouth and left her office again. 

 

A fast walk down the corridor, a ride down the elevator, and one minute later, she entered the cafeteria. _ Hohoho, _ she had been right; he was still there. And, as it seemed, he was having a conversation with Harry, whom she had left behind just minutes ago. Also at the table sat Theo Nott, a colleague of Draco’s, and Daphne Greengrass, who had surprisingly ignored her position as designated pureblood princess and worked hard as Harry’s Auror partner.

 

Hermione approached their table and, without so much as a greeting to the others, expounded,  “Even though Christmas and fairy tales range on the same level of fiction for me, I won’t get lured into your gingerbread house.” 

 

Draco’s lips furled into a smirk, so sure of himself. “My long line of ancestors would roll over in their graves if they knew someone described Malfoy Manor as ‘gingerbread house.’ Though, the Christmas party will be here, at the Ministry, of course. And apparently you have already indulged in what I offered you.” 

 

She was too stunned to move when he reached up and trailed his index finger over her cheek. He seemed to remove something sticky from her face, just above her lips. It was a bit of the chocolate she had tasted, she realised when he stuck the finger in his mouth and licked it. 

 

Hermione felt her cheeks blush, unbidden, and wanted to throw something biting back at him when Harry spoke up. 

 

“You two realise that there are other people in this same dimension, right?” He sounded more teasing than anything else.

 

“The two of you are so…” Daphne started, chuckling.

 

“Coming to the Christmas party?” Draco finished for her, his eyes not leaving Hermione.

 

“No,” she whispered, still caught in his gaze. “No, I won’t come,” she repeated after clearing her throat. 

 

“But why? I mean, you’ve only said no so far, but there hasn’t been the tiniest bit of explanation.” He sounded genuinely disappointed.  

 

“Draco, don’t-” Harry scolded him, but Hermione had discovered her words again.

 

“I don’t need to explain my reasons, Draco!” Her own voice sounded embarrassingly too shrill in her own ears. 

 

Without any further elaboration, she left the cafeteria again. She hadn’t even made a dozen steps outside of the room when she had to lean against a wall. Sharply drawing fresh air into her lungs, Hermione tried to calm herself. 

 

Draco meant well, that much was clear. Though, he wouldn’t understand the reasons behind her resilience. She didn’t even fully understand them herself most of the year. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione’s ears were hurting.

 

She really was trying to be a role model and support the boy, but this was too much.

 

_ “Adese fidele, late trimphanti,”  _ Teddy sung at the top of his lungs. 

 

It was his eleventh repetition.

 

“Teddy, darling, you can stop now,” Hermione directed over the child’s voice.

 

“But, Hermione,” he pouted, “Uncle Draco said that I really,  _ really _ have to try and bring you some Christmas cheer!”

 

As it seemed, ‘Uncle Draco’ had sent Teddy Lupin to sing traditional Muggle Christmas carols in her office. And sing he did, bursting into the only song he really knew and was so proud of because it was in Latin, which his grandmother had _ tried _ to teach him some of the basics of the language with the lyrics. 

 

“And you did so! A very impressive voice you have,” she told him diplomatically. “I am certain your Uncle Draco would be very proud of how well you did.”

 

The boy grinned, the hair turning an adorable pink. 

 

“So did I made you feel Christmas-y?”

 

She couldn’t very well lie to Teddy’s face now, could she? Instead, she suggested, “How about you and I spend this Saturday at the Observatory? To show you my gratitude for your concert?” Hermione winked.

 

A squeal and a hug later, she sent Teddy back home to Andromeda, along with a short note explaining that she intended to spend Saturday with him.  

 

Approximately ten seconds later, she entered Draco’s office. 

 

Via Floo. 

 

Because, not so unlike Teddy, her hair reacts on her mood, and she didn’t want to be seen stomping all over the Ministry like she had wrangled with a niffler and lost. 

 

“I won’t come, and that’s the end of it,” she opened the conversation. Manners were out this season, it seemed. 

 

“But why, Hermione?” 

 

“Because I don’t want to come!” she fumed. 

“What will you do instead then?” He was the definition of calm control.  

 

“Work, probably. Or curl up on my sofa with a book and some red wine. Or a film. As long as it hasn’t  _ anything _ to do with Christmas.” Why did she even bother answering him? 

 

Draco must have anticipated this response. He calmly rose from his chair and stepped around his desk, folding his arms in front of his chest. 

 

Totally uninvited, Hermione suddenly remembered how she had divulged to him one evening, when she had been quite drunk, that men’s upper arms were her weakness.

Not her brightest moment -- especially now that she suspected he was using it against her, judging by the way he was letting his muscles bulge. He really was  _ fit. _

 

Damn. The sneaky Slytherin pulled on her every string to manipulate her into going to the office party. 

 

Then he said something that threw her off completely. “I spoke with Potter and Weasley.”

And her anger was promptly back. “You what?” 

 

“They told me that you avoid everything festive like the plague, even the traditional Christmas dinner at the Burrow.”

 

She gasped involuntarily. 

 

“Instead, you stay at home most of the time, only to be seen at New Year’s. Though, they wouldn’t really want to tell me the reasons behind your behaviour.”

 

“So?” she snapped. But Draco knew her and therefore knew that she lashed out when she was insecure or hurt.

 

“So help me try to understand, Hermione. That’s what friends do.”

 

At every other opportunity, she would’ve quipped that he’d grown soft, but not today. Today, she blinked away the tears forming in her eyes and swallowed heavily. The least thing she could offer him was an explanation.

 

“Granger Christmas was different. My parents were… are really rational people, logical to a fault. And, as you may have noticed, they raised me with the same beliefs. There were no fairy tales involved in our Christmases, no lights or stockings on the mantelpiece.” She sat down on the arm of the chair facing his desk, her voice monotone when she continued in an effort to remain in control. “And even though that might sound cold, it wasn’t. We had a wonderful time, watched documentaries on TV, played Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit all night long, and read together in the living room. I came back to Hogwarts after the holidays, filled with so much more knowledge. It was perfect and I didn’t miss anything, not the tree, not the lights, not the sweets.” She couldn’t believe Draco was the first person she had told this to in much detail. For Harry and Ron, their understanding had always been instinctual, grown in the years between them.

 

“After the war, I couldn’t reverse obliviating my parent’s memory, but I still secretly looked after them. About two years later on Christmas… they had changed. I looked through their window, and there were twinkling lights and a tree, and music was playing. It was so different, and I don’t know why their Christmases have changed, but the rest of their persona hadn’t.” Finally, she dared to look into his eyes and was instantly drawn in. They were opened wide, not in pity, but in attentive focus. She didn’t dare to over analyse that now, so she finished her explanation. “Our special way to not-celebrate is one of the few things I have left of my parents, of who they were before I erased their memories. I can’t find it in myself to change it all. And I am aware that I overdo it by essentially ignoring all the cheers and socialising, but… it hurts.”

 

For a second, she thought Draco was going to hug her. He still stood in front of his desk, arms folded. But there was a certain softness in his features, an empathy in his expression that made it difficult to remember that he had ever been such an arrogant child. He seemed to struggle with his words, so when he didn’t say anything, Hermione turned to go.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself when you withdraw like that,” came his voice from behind her when her hand was already on the door handle. 

 

“I know.” She blinked away the tears threatening to spill, not daring to turn around to him. “But I can’t help it.” 

 

And with that, she left his office. 

 

* * *

 

Draco didn’t even knock when he stepped into Hermione’s office on the evening of the twenty-fourth. 

 

Music and laughter could be heard beyond the door frame until he closed the door behind him.

 

“Good evening, Hermione,” he greeted her with a slight smile.

 

“Hello. It sounds like the party is in full swing,” she commented politely, looking up from the papers she was working on. “I trust you came to express your disappointment that I didn’t show up?”

 

“A bit, yes,” Draco replied, “but I could’ve done that in the morning by owl. Though, I wanted to make sure that your present was delivered on time.”

 

Hermione was surprisingly not as irritated as expected about his presence. “A present? Even after I basically told you to leave me alone? This Christmas mood is certainly becoming on you.” She didn’t want it to affect her, but his cheer was a bit infectious. Draco Malfoy glowing in joy like the star of Bethlehem itself was amazing and certainly very pleasant to look at. 

 

From behind his back, he produced what looked like a thick book, wrapped in paper with little bunnies and Easter Eggs. That cracked her facade completely and she let out a small giggle. As she unwrapped it, she discovered it was a book about Wizarding holiday customs in Great Britain from the Middle Ages to today.

 

“I know you’ve probably heard about a lot of them, but maybe this is the book you will curl up on your couch with.” Draco also placed a bottle of red wine on her desk. An expensive one, judging by the label. “I hope you’ll see next year as a sociological exploit or something.” 

 

Hermione swallowed down all the emotions bubbling up in her stomach. “Tell me your favourite one. Christmas custom, I mean,” she asked on an impulse and with a lot insecurity in her voice.

 

“Really?” he responded and she thought she spotted a bit of pink on the tip of his ears. Quite endearing.

 

Nodding, she pointed at the chair opposite her, and he promptly sat down, his usual impeccability and elegance only slightly marred by his bright green Christmas sweater with a dancing penguin on it. 

 

“Obviously, the Santa figure in the Wizarding world is a romanticised Merlin character with a dash of mischief thrown in. But instead of milk and biscuits, little witches and wizards lay out homemade pumpkin juice and wand polish out as a bribe. And it is of utmost importance that the pumpkin juice is homemade,” he smiled, infusing a bit of Snape, talking about potion ingredients, in his narration. 

 

“Needless to say, my mother used to help me with that, and it was the only time of the year that I saw her wearing an apron. Let alone entering the kitchen.”

 

Hermione chuckled. Imagining the poised and perfect Narcissa Malfoy wearing an apron was indeed hilarious. 

 

“My father would sit next to us, reading a book. And when we were done, we would place the juice next to the great fireplace in the library. It has those huge windows overlooking the grounds, spectacular especially with the snow in the scenery. And yes, I know my parents  _ made _ it snow in many years.” He grinned boyishly, and something in Hermione softened even more. “And finally, my father would lower the wards in a huge spectacle of wand-weaving and murmured enchantments.” 

 

Engrossed in his story, Hermione asked, “Why did he do that?” 

 

“He probably didn’t.” He chuckled lowly. “But he told me that if I wanted Merlin to Apparate in, the wards had to be lowered. Of course, if I also didn’t want the Muggles from the village to get wind of that, I had to be a good little wizard the entire year.” 

 

She snorted. That last part clearly hadn’t worked at all. “That’s such a sweet story. I really had trouble imagining how Christmas was for you in that big manor, but now… it sounds peaceful.”

 

“It was,” Draco agreed. “Though, Father also told me that if he didn’t lower the wards, Merlin would break them, riding in on his fire-breathing hippogriff. Now you know the reason behind my fear of those beasts in the first place.”

 

“You’re lying!” she accused him.

 

“Am I?” he smirked, pointing at the book. “You will have to find out.” And with that, he rose from the chair.

 

“Ask me again.”

 

“What?”

 

“Ask me again if I’d like to come to the Christmas party in the atrium. But give me a solid reason.” She had made up her mind. Draco had tried so hard, he deserved another chance. She deserved another chance.

 

“Will you accompany me down to the office Christmas party, Hermione?” he asked formally, offering her his arm. ”I’d like to show you that our Christmas can be friendly and happy and a bit magical. Also, I really love Christmas, and you don’t want to risk ruining it for me. A Malfoy’s revenge is-”

 

“Alright, you should’ve stopped at ‘magical’,” she commented drily, but happily rose to her feet and accepted his arm.

 

* * *

 

Just when they were about to reach the party, she could already see how brilliant the lights were twinkling and smell the punch and cinnamon surrounding her, and she stopped walking. Her feet felt glued to the floor.

 

“What-” Draco started but groaned when she pointed at the enchanted mistletoe above them. “I must apologize. I hadn’t planned for this, seriously.” His sheepish tone amused Hermione. And when he pulled his wand from the holster beneath his sleeve, she halted his movement by placing her arm on his wrist, effectively putting them in a position where they stood in a half-embrace. 

 

“As a teenager, it was always my dream to be swept into a wild kiss under the mistletoe,” she admitted, and she could feel an embarrassed blush creeping across her cheeks. “That was the only Christmas custom I really wanted to experience. I tried it with Ron one time, but it wasn’t as mind-blowing as I had hoped for.”

 

“So now you expect me to fulfill your wish?”

 

She shrugged. 

 

“Hermione Granger, I am not so easily seduced. I don’t settle for a snog under the mistletoe.” He was obviously teasing but also not. When he stepped closer to her, settling his hand on her waist, she shivered upon the intensity in his grey eyes. 

 

“But I really want it. I’ll even take the risk that you aren’t a good kisser.” She wasn’t ashamed that she was openly flirting now.

 

His other hand wandered up to her face, gently cupping her jaw. “Hermione, I am serious.”

 

The fact that he didn’t comment on her jab about his kissing abilities combined with the proximity and intensity of his presence made her breathing hitch, and Hermione conceded, “Okay. A kiss and what?” 

 

“Spend Christmas with me. Only for a few hours or even all day. I want to show you our traditions and argue with you about them.” 

 

“Alright.” The agreement fell from her lips easily and without thinking.

 

That must have been enough for him because in the next second, Draco pulled her closer in a dramatical movement, and when they touched, she laughed against his lips. Then, they relaxed into the embrace, revelling in the feeling of the kiss, the warmth, the pure joy that such a simple touch could bring. 

 

Merlin, one kiss and she felt her body tingling from head to toe. It didn’t stay so chaste, and before long, their tongues touched and played.

 

By the time they had to come up for air, his hands had traveled under her blouse, over her back, and her hands had thoroughly tousled his hair. She felt punch-drunk, and if his widely blown pupils were any indication, he was in the same state.

“Draco, there’s one last thing I should warn you about… I am afraid I haven’t been a good girl this year…” she said, feeling coy and daring.

 

He breathed deeply twice, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he gave her a smirk that was positively feral.  “I think  _ that _ is the only Christmas present I want this year,” he rasped. 

 

And it seemed all Hermione Granger needed for feeling like celebrating Christmas again was an office party. Or rather: the wizard behind it and his magical ways to ignore her invitation denegation. 

  
  
  



End file.
